The shout that went up cracked the plaster on the ceiling of the venerable building.
"Speech, speech," shouted one of those individuals who always do raise that cry on the slightest excuse.
Rob Blake, very red and protesting, was hustled to the front of the stage on which the Scouts had been drawn up.
"I can"t make a speech," he began.
"Hear! Hear!" shouted the crowd, most of whom couldn"t.
"But on behalf of the Boy Scouts I want to thank you all and--and--"
The rest was drowned by the band which, having been quiescent for ten whole minutes, could maintain silence no longer and blared out into that favorite of all village bands, "Hail to the Chief."
"Come on, let"s get out of here," whispered Rob to Merritt, whose breast was decorated with the coveted bronze cross and red ribbon, which is the highest honor a scout can attain.
As they slipped out upon the darkened street a boy came up to them with an outstretched hand.
"I want to tell you I"m sorry for the part I played in the mean tricks Jack Curtiss and Bill Bender put up on you fellows," he said contritely, "will you shake hands?"
"Sure we will, Sam Redding," responded Merritt, extending his palm, while Rob did likewise.
"At that," added Merritt, "I guess we win."
And here, with their former enemy become a remorseful friend, we will, for the present, leave the Boy Scouts to renew our acquaintance with them in the next volume of this series which will be called: "The Boy Scouts on the Range."
THE END